


His Personal Sun

by enlili



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26234026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enlili/pseuds/enlili
Summary: “Tell me, when was the last time somebody gave you a loving touch without hurting you before I came along?” Derek doesn’t answer. A minute passes and he is still silent.Derek has never had anyone to give him love, Stiles realises, never.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 9
Kudos: 133





	His Personal Sun

**Author's Note:**

> alright, so i am not sure what possessed me to write it but i hope you like it  
> mind that english is not my mother tongue so there might me mistakes but don't let that spoil your fun

It is as if they were here before. The screams, the shouts, calling each other names that they don’t really mean and that are not true but the venom on their tongues is just too much to handle, better to spit it all out. It feels as if they were here before. And perhaps they were. This is all so familiar that one might be scared, should be scared. And yet, somehow, something is new. It’s like something has changed and neither of them noticed. The screams are louder, the shouts are stronger, and those names and accusations pointed at the other seem even harsher and cut deeper into a soul and mind. Seems like they are their greatest weapon, not claws nor teeth. The words are more than enough to hurt, to break, to destroy. That thought itself is so horrifying that they almost stop. Almost.

“Why do you keep pushing me away?!” Stiles shouts, his vision starting to get blurry.

“Because! Because what we did was a mistake, and cannot happen again, and when… when I’m near you I can’t control myself!” Derek answers with the same rage in his deep voice. Stiles thinks he can feel the timbre of it ripping through his bones. “You think it’s not killing me?! Well big surprise, I die a little every single day. But I can’t do this. We can’t do this.”

Stiles blinks at him and bites his lips, wishing it was something else because he prefers the touch of the teeth which belong to the man in front of him, but still, it’s one of the things that prevents him from crying, at least for now. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“Can we… can we maybe talk about it?” he asks and hates himself when his voice is nothing but a pitiful whisper.

“And what exactly this “it” is? Is there anything at all that we ought to talk about? Let’s not make it harder, it already is. What we did, should have not happened, but what’s done is done and can’t be changed, and we should keep a distance between us for everyone’s sake,” Derek doesn’t shout anymore either, but his voice is calm and collected. Stiles thinks he can hear a glimmer of sadness there too. One that matches his own.

“For everyone’s or for yours?” he asks, finally forcing his eyes to meet Derek’s. He looks at him, but he is sure his eyes are void.

There is a silence now and both of them are not brave enough to break it, at least for few seconds because then Derek says, “You’re like a poison to my heart and my mind, even if you’re not aware. You take and kill exactly what you want without even knowing it. You steal pieces and never give them back.”

“Then why won’t you let me give them back?”

“Because I can’t!” he says loudly, louder than expected. “Maybe I’m scared, maybe I’m just not good enough at this shit, but I can’t. It feels like losing myself when I’m with you.”

Stiles gives up and lets the tears fall. He doesn’t think he has any strength anymore. “Please, let me show you that I can give you all those pieces back, or, if I can’t, I’ll give you mine. Take whatever you want,” he sobs, tears streaming down his red face.

“I can’t, I can’t do it now. Not with you.”

“You should’ve told me before we did it!” There’s an anger in his voice again. He is livid.

“Well sorry a lot, but you didn’t seem to care about anything when you were begging me to fuck you!”

And that’s it. All this anger, all this wrath that Stiles thought was boiling inside him, just disappears. Silence falls once more. Neither of them knows what to say. They just stand there, in the middle of Derek’s loft, breathing heavily, feeling the weight carried by those words, the weight of the night they’re trying to forget, without much success. It has been much easier when they didn’t address it, just left it unspoken. But now, now they know there is no way they can do it anymore. God, it could have been easy, should have been. Now, there is only mess.

Derek looks at him as he moves towards the couch, wanting to speak up, but he’s not sure what he really wants to say. He looks as Stiles takes his phone from the coffee table, and his hoodie, and starts moving towards the door, clearly leaving.

“Stiles… I-” he stops when Stiles turns around to look at him, and he sees how sad those brown eyes are, how hollow. Every thought he has disappears. They tried so hard, at least he tells so himself. Now, he doesn’t know if they would ever be able to go back to normal. It all seems hopeless.

Stiles sighs and starts moving again, trying to remain at least a little bit of this dignity, but feeling defeated, nonetheless. He turns and looks at Derek one more time, his hand on the handle. “Goodbye Derek.”

With that he is out the door, leaving yet another piece of his heart in that loft.

* * *

His head hurts. It hurts so much but he doesn’t stop. Vodka burns his throat but it’s the merely thought of Derek that makes his head pound. So, he would rather black out with a terrible hangover than stare blankly at his hands and try to forget what it was like to be able to touch him. Stiles knows each of these thoughts destroys him a little more but still he can’t help himself. Derek is still the only thing that is on his mind. Has been for a while now.

Lydia once told him that he should find himself a nice girlfriend or a nice boyfriend. That it is a great thing to have. Except Stiles does not want nice. He is bored of nice. He is sick of it. Especially now, when his life is anything but. When everything has happened, and he is no longer the same as he was before werewolves and all that fucked up shit.

And well, there is nothing nice about Derek. Nothing nice in the way he kissed him until his mouth felt bruised nor in the way he gripped Stiles’ hips like he wanted to both push him away and pull him in like he couldn’t help himself. And there definitely isn’t anything nice in the way Derek wore his jealousy in his sleeve and it just looked so good on him. Jealousy of Stiles. At least when it still was there.

Because Derek Hale is not nice.

He is excitement and longing. He is an electricity that thrums in veins. Pure instinct. He is wet dreams, bleeding hearts, biting tongues and bruising kisses.

Derek Hale is not nice. He is feral.

He is everything that Stiles is not.

He is all that and he is not here.

Stiles takes another sip from the half-empty bottle. He’s starting to feel numb which is a good thing, he supposes. He is vaguely aware of his phone ringing in the distance, but he ignores it. It’s probably just Scott.

Scott is nice and Stiles doesn’t want nice.

So, he just lets it be and remains sat on his bed, drinking himself to sleep. It’s a good thing his father is out of the town till his important case is closed. Stiles can be alone. He knows his father doesn’t deserve to see his son like this, he doesn’t want him to. Hell, he doesn’t want to see himself, let alone let anyone else.

He drops an empty bottle next to his bed, takes off his clothes and goes to bathroom to take a shower. Maybe this is what he needs. Hot water on his cold heart and steam so he can’t see.

The water burns his skin, but he ignores it too. His hands are propped up on the tiles and his head hangs lower than his shoulders, his eyes closed tightly. The alcohol did not help very much. Now it’s even harder to get rid of the thoughts. They run through his mind and don’t want to stop. It’s like they constantly chasing and running.

They should have known better. He should have known better. What they did was great, really great, but it was supposed to be a one-time thing. It never is though, is it? What they did was supposed to be only a quick release of the unresolved tension. Quick thing to get off and then move on and forget. Then how come that now he’s here, in his own bathroom, longing for a touch from a man who is across the town. Goddamn his cocky personality and his stupid ideas, because now, instead of having Derek wrapped around his finger, he finds himself chained to his.

He exits the bathroom and goes back to his room. He numbly kicks the bottle and tumbles down on his bed. His cold bed that now seems too big. He knows that sleep won’t come easily, but he hopes that maybe in this vodka may help.

So, he just lies in bed and hopes to fall asleep before he falls apart.

* * *

Lydia pays him a visit several days later, for she knows that if called, he wouldn’t answer. She’s right. They both know it. He opens the door and she just looks at him like she knows everything and maybe she does. Stiles closes the door behind her, and they sit in silence on the couch in the middle of the living room for a while, and then she sighs, stands and goes to the kitchen. She makes them mugs of cocoa and sits again. Stiles just looks at her blindly, wondering why she came at all. He just wants to be alone. Why no one can understand? There is only one person he wants to see and that is not gonna happen. He wants his pretty eyes, his strong chest and all-encompassing arms. He wants to be able to breath in his smell and listen to his heartbeat steady beneath his ribcage and feel his rough fingers against his skin. He needs him. Because he knows that if he can just have him by his side, touch him, everything will be okay. But he’s not here and it’s not okay.

He drinks anyway. The beverage is good and hot and outweighs the taste of the alcohol that still lingers in his throat.

It’s good, really good, but still not what he needs.

“So…” she starts, her voice soft as it always is when she is uncertain of her words. Stiles meets her eyes and says nothing. “What the hell happened with you two?” Lydia asks finally.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured it out,” he says bitterly. “You’re way too smart for this.”

“Maybe, but still, I’d like to hear your version,” she smiles and it’s one of those Stiles cannot resist.

“Well… I guess you were right after all. We are not so different, Derek and I, I’m just equally as broken as he is,” he takes another sip and leans against back of the sofa, covering himself with a blanket, wishing he could disappear beneath it. She looks and him and waits, because she knows he’s not done yet. “We fucked,” he whispers, trying to cover his burning face with a mug. “And then, of course, because this is my life, feelings got involved.”

“Feelings… for Derek?” Lydia asks as if it’s something unimaginable.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure Derek feels something for me too,” he tells her, feeling like he might cry any second. He smiles instead. He has mastered hiding sadness behind a smile since the moment his mother died. No one is better at this.

Lydia stares and him and then says, “So… where is the problem?”

“The problem is that, apparently, I make him vulnerable. I weaken him. Whatever that means. He said, and I quote, he can’t control himself when I’m near.” Stiles persistently stares at the one of many cracks in the wall. It looks nasty. He wonders if his heart looks the same.

“Have you talked with him about it?” she asks, and he opens his mouths, but before can say anything she waves her hand and stops him. “And I mean talk. A conversation. Not shouting and crying. Not anger and rage. Just words. Like grown adults do.”

“Lydia… have you met him?”

“Yeah, I have, and, let me tell you, he is an adult too. And I think that maybe, just maybe… he is scared. Have you thought about it? About how he feels? As far as we’re concerned, each of his relationships was a disaster. A killer, a liar, and who know who else. Maybe he is just as lost as you are. Maybe he's scared, for if he doesn't heal what hurt him, he will bleed on people who didn’t cut him. Stiles, you know him better than any of us do. Try and see it from his perspective.”

Stiles looks at her and thinks about her words. How can she be so clever, it should be illegal. He sometimes wonders if what he feels for the man is even real. Hell, he is lonely. And sometimes it occurs to him that maybe he would let anyone kiss him just as hard. But then again, he tries to imagine anyone in the place of Derek’s lips and it’s just not right. He knows that they were never going to take each other to dates or holding hands in public places. But from what he has seen of Derek, Stiles thought he might be lonely too, and so he just thought that maybe they could be lonely together. He never meant for it to get out of hand. But it has and now, when he tries to maintain at least a little control, he fails miserably. So much for being a grown adult.

Lydia puts her mug down on the coffee table, takes his hand in hers and looks at him. When she speaks, her voice is quiet, “You really love him to death, don’t you?”

Stiles responds, “Speak of him over my grave and watch how he brings me back to life.”

* * *

It’s been almost a month now. Days go by or rather drag on. Stiles hasn’t seen Derek for a long time now. He everyday wonders how he is.

The storm rolls in while he comes back home. The clouds are dark, and the rain pours down heavily. He wishes he had taken his jeep; he wouldn’t have to go back on foot. He’s soaked and cold and he has enough. Of everything. Of this city, of his friends who ignore his pain and talks only about all creepy things that happen in the town, of the world. Of himself for being such a disaster.

“Stiles?” He hears a deep voice and turns abruptly at the sounds. Derek’s car drives slowly next to him and Derek looks at him with worry and strange sadness in his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Going home,” he says, his teeth gnashing.

“Get in.”

“My legs work just fine,” he says and continues walking.

“Stiles, c’mon. You can’t just walk in the rain like this. You’ll get sick.”

“Watch me.”

“Just… please, Stiles.” Stiles stops when he hears this word. It’s not common on Derek’s tongue, it sounds foreign. “Please, just get in,” Derek repeats and leans over the passenger’s sit to open the door for him.

Stiles thinks for a bit but nods and gets in anyway. When they drive, he stares at the drops on the window and doesn’t say a word. They drive in silence, somewhat awkward but not as much as he expected it to be. Stiles remembers when they lay together in the bed in silence. Derek was beautiful and aesthetical and just anything Stiles has ever wanted, and Stiles… Stiles was simply his. Even if just for a moment. He wants it all back, he just doesn’t know how.

“We’re here,” Derek says suddenly, his voice breaking through the silence.

“You want to come in?” Stiles asks out of politeness before he can think better of it.

“Do you want me to?” Derek’s clearly uncertain.

“I don’t mind,” Stiles assures quietly, though he’s not certain himself.

Derek nods and then they are inside his house and it’s getting awkward once again. This time it’s more palpable. Stiles wonders how much of this they will be able to bear.

“So, do you want something to drink?”

“Stiles, I-”

“Or maybe you’re hungry?”

“Stiles,” Derek’s tone is serious in a way Stiles doesn’t like, he flinches but stops and looks at his wet clothes. “I’m fine,” Derek says quietly.

They stand in the opposite sides of the room, not looking at each other and not talking.

“I’m sorry,” says Derek then and Stiles is so genuinely surprised he looks up at Derek. His eyes consume him all over again.

 _Sorry means nothing when trust is broken_ , Stiles thinks, but then again, he’s not sure he doesn’t trust Derek, he’s not sure if he could ever stop trusting him, so he says nothing, just waits.

“I know that what I said was harsh, but it was truth, I’m afraid,” he says, and he flags a little as if his soaked leather jacket is too heavy. “I really do not know how to control myself around you,” he whispers, meeting Stiles’ eyes.

“Tell me, when was the last time somebody gave you a loving touch without hurting you before I came along?” Derek doesn’t answer. A minute passes and he is still silent.

Derek has never had anyone to give him love, Stiles realises, never.

Stiles takes a few steps towards him and stands in front of him. He looks up, meeting his eyes. “Why won’t you give us a try? Is it about all those pieces you were talking about earlier? I can’t give them back if you won’t let me, I told you before. You know how I feel, and I know it scares you… but you’re not alone in this.”

Derek stares at him, losing himself in the beautiful brown eyes. He puts his hand on Stiles’ cheek and wipes the raindrops away.

“I don’t want you to take it back, ever… but I don’t deserve your love.”

 _No, you don’t, but I don’t deserve yours, so we’re even_ , Stiles thinks but says nothing.

Derek speaks again, “But I’ll try to make myself worth it, I promise, I’ll try.”

Stiles smiles widely. He puts his hand on Derek’s one that still covers his cheek. He turns his face and kisses his palm. Derek looks at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Kiss me,” Stiles requests in a soft whisper.

Derek leans closer, connecting their lips, surprisingly gentle but pressing. It feels softer and more innocent than ever before. He shifts slowly and moves them to the sofa, lowering them onto it.

He kisses him open-mouthed and slow, over and over again, pulling back for a moment just to take him in before seeking the warmth of his mouth once again. As if Derek wants to remember exactly what it feels like to kiss Stiles, how soft his lips are, how he tastes, how he responds when he bites at Stiles’ lower lips. As if the wants to remember everything. And it’s everything Stiles has ever wanted and more. And now that he’s allowed to have it, he swears himself, he’s going to cling to it at all costs.

Derek can feel how hard they both are as their lips move together, but it’s not about that this time, not yet. He just wants to kiss him in every possible way, he needs to kiss him in every possible way. He kisses him until Stiles’ eyes become heavy and his kisses get softer, and then he just watches him fall asleep, before he picks him up and carries to his room, lowering him on the bed. He himself goes downstairs and lies on the sofa.

* * *

“Derek!” Stiles calls the next morning, walking down the stairs. He spots him on the couch, looking sleepy but content. “Why didn’t you stay with me?” he asks and sits next to the other man.

“I didn’t know… I wasn’t sure… if you wanted me to,” he says almost bashfully.

Stiles smiles at him and rests his hand on Derek’s chest. “Yeah, I wanted you to. But that’s fine. You can take me there now,” he says and sits on Derek’s lap.

The storm that still rolls behind the windows, finds them naked in the bed, sheets messily sprawled on top of them while they play with each other’s fingers and trace each other’s skin, drunk from exhaustion and happiness.

 _So much better than alcohol_ , Stiles thinks. His head is set on Derek’s chest, his free hand draws imaginary lines on his low abdomen, honestly tickling him, although Derek would never tell him. He doesn’t care anyway, too busy burying his nose in Stiles’ brown hair that he missed so much, filling his nose with his unique scent.

They are too caught up in each other to even think about doing something different than kissing and smiling and laying together.

Stiles looks up at him some time later. _You were a beautiful possibility that turned into my only, perfect reality_ , he thinks, _and please just stay here, please_.

Derek looks down at him as if he heard his thoughts. He kisses his lips softly, pulling him closer, and smiles into the kiss.

“I love you,” he says, and it sounds strange on his tongue and yet so right, “I little more than I did yesterday, and I little less than I will tomorrow.”

Stiles pulls himself on top of him and stares down at him, smiling like crazy, and then kisses him again.

When he pulls away, Derek smiles at him and it’s one of those smiles that can put the sun to shame.

 _When have you become my personal sun_ , he thinks, _it’s like I don’t want to be without your warmth ever again._

_I hope I won’t be._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> feedback is appreciated:)


End file.
